Train to Trotson, Southwest Equestria
199 years after the Last Day
Four pegasi stabbed me in the back.
While it is metaphorical in this case, it might as well have been physically. Honorable discharge, like hell that was really a choice given what I had allowed to happen. Perhaps they thought it a kinder fate than exile, but I knew that they and everypony else would have judged me worse for it. The same could be said for being branded a Dashite, but at least this way I had what I really wanted. How much it hurt having my flank branded with that traitor’s cutie mark didn’t matter. What mattered most was revenge.
Revenge for playing me for a fool, for endangering my husband (or ex-husband now) and foals, and endangering the GPE. My own squad had turned traitor when I hadn’t realized it, using my good standing with General Ironsight to steal codes to classified information. Among them are blueprints for vehicles, weapons, and more that I’m certain I don’t know. Any of it getting revealed would be bad for the GPE, and the council even more so. Anyone in the Enclave finding out it happened would cause a stir up too.
That is the real reason I was given an ‘honorable discharge’ by the council. It wasn’t out of the good of their hearts, but as a way of trying to keep it under wraps. It was also why, since I chose exile instead of discharge, I had to be branded a Dashite. To make sure I don’t come back shouting about all the things I’ve seen or learned in taking my revenge. Killing me would have been an admittance that something has gone wrong, and they didn’t want any chance at losing support.
So honorable discharge or exile were my choices. In the end I choose the one that put me on a collision course with those backstabbing fucks I had once called squadmates. It meant that I was just Singing Rhapsody now and not Lieutenant Colonel Singing Rhapsody. A shame, considering I liked how the rank sounded when attached to my name, but it is what it is. It was nowhere near as bad as being separated from the stallion I loved.
Oh Anchor, I’m so so sorry for leaving this suddenly. I can only hope you understand how much of a wound this all was to me. Don’t worry, I’ll have it fixed soon, and you and everyone else in the Enclave will never have to worry your little hearts. Our secrets will be safe.
“Let's go over everything one more time, Rhapsody.”
I turned my attention away from the passing landscape, the voice of Ironsight Bullseye cutting through the rhythmic thumping of the train. He wasn’t actually with me, sad as it was to say, but I had a radio to contact him by. Dashite or not, I had agreed to deal with the confiscated information and the council wanted to make sure of it. I had to check in weekly with Ironsight, now my only connection to the land above the clouds, and he would relay any new info found about my former squad. If I missed even one check in, my name was on a list next to the rest of those responsible for this to begin with. I only go completely free once the mission is over.
“Yes, let's,” I replied, giving an involuntary nod. It was a shame; beforehoof we would do briefings like this face to face. I already missed that.
“You already know the names of your targets: Angel Hair, Lucky Shot, Dew Leaf, and Medicine Ball. Rank doesn’t matter, they aren’t Enclave anymore,” Ironsight explained. While it might have been unnecessary in the grand scheme of things, this was an official briefing. Things had to be done right. “Dew Leaf and Lucky Shot’s current locations are unknown. Medicine Ball and Angel Hair are on opposite sides of the wasteland. The former is in Manehattan, the latter in Trotson.”
“Considering two of them are spread so far apart, it would be likely to assume that the same will go for the others as well. Perhaps it is to spread the confiscated info further, but we can’t be sure. What we can be sure of is that Angel Hair is the biggest threat right now due to who, or rather what, controls Trotson: Shadow Corp. We know nothing other than the fact they are the cause behind the sandstorm that keeps Trotson separated from the rest of the wasteland, and that they have the means to control weather.”
As Ironsight spoke, it hit me that this was more than just a brief. This was a full survival guide. The GPE was no longer my home, and I would likely never return to it unless some miracle occurred. Every bit of intel I got on the area I was heading into was just as necessary for completing the mission as it was for simply living here. Even with it, there was no guarantee it would be up to date or correct. The Enclave liked to keep as much knowledge of the wasteland unknown to the public as possible.
Just like with keeping me quiet, that was to make sure pegasi stayed loyal.
“I remember the name. We had a skirmish with them a few years ago,” I said, leaning back on my train seat. “It still sticks with me, what happened then. That storm and the screams still haunt me. It's the only part of the wasteland with an S.P.P. tower not linked to the central hub, though how is unknown.”
“Which is why the stolen files can’t be allowed to fall into their hooves,” Ironsight continued on. I gave yet another involuntary nod. “Angel Hair must have had a run-in with Shadow Corp on a mission in the past. Possibly offered her something we couldn’t, though we don’t know what that is. If they gain that intel, their already staggering control over the region's weather could be used to harm the whole of the GPE.”
That thought was terrifying, and the only reason said terror didn’t worm its way into my expression was due to years of military service. Get into enough life threatening situations or watch enough comrades die and one finds it hard to call upon the terror in one's mind. Even if I wanted to call it up, something in me found it impossible. It did give off the impression of a cold, contemplative, and perfect soldier though. Very few ponies had been lucky enough to see that break, Ironsight being one.
Iron Anchor, my ex-husband, was the only other pony I was certain hadn’t been fooled by it. With him I felt the ability to cry again, to express the emotions I felt deep down. Even if those emotions were still dulled, the fact I could feel them made me feel a way I didn’t with anyone else. It… actually makes me regret my decision to some extent. A part of me wishes I could go back.
Yet one look to my flank – my cutie mark – reminded me that this path couldn’t be turned back from. Her mark was over mine, and it would stay there for the rest of my life. More than a physical symbol of my decision to leave, it was a symbol of what I had given up; what I had failed to protect. I chose exile over discharge, and that was the end of it, no matter how much I might come to regret it.
“Your mission is simple: find Angel Hair, eliminate them, and destroy the info they hold,” Ironsight said, his words sidelining my inner conflict. I couldn’t call him insensitive. Excluding the fact he was my superior officer, he wasn’t even physically present to see what I was thinking. “As you are a Dashite, the means don't matter as to how you achieve it. Befriend the goddesses-damned Steel Rangers if you have to. Just know that the Enclave shall be offering no assistance outside my calls. Any questions?”
I sat in silence for a couple of seconds, looking up at the train car’s lights. This was my first time in one, and I found it to not be that enjoyable. The cabin I had been given was clearly not up to date. The bed had a damn spring sticking out of it! Perhaps this was the wasteland’s form of hazing a new Dashite. Gone was the comfort and security of the clouds, replaced instead with the run down hand-me-downs from a time long gone. Couldn’t tell if it was working or not.
“Rhapsody?”
I had gotten lost in my thoughts. Thankfully, I did have questions ready.
“Outside of Shadow Corp, anything you can tell me about the ponies in Trotson?” I asked, looking at my reflection in the window. In a better world Enclave armor would have covered me, but instead all I saw was the magenta mare with blue and white mane and tail I woke up to each morning. She had a Novasurge next to her. “Surely Shadow Corp isn’t the only faction in the city.”
“From what intel we have, most factions are warring raider groups. The most prominent in the city are run by a stallion calling themselves Bone Breaker. His group might be good to get in leagues with,” Ironsight explained. He paused just long enough after speaking to fool me into thinking he was done talking. He started talking again as soon as I opened my jaw. “There is another pony of interest, if our intel is correct. A unicorn ghoul called Sharpshot. He owes the Enclave three favors for saving his life three separate times one hundred and twenty-four years ago.”
I felt obligated to raise my eyebrow as Ironsight told me that. Several more questions entered my brain, all surrounding this ‘Sharpshot’ that my old friend spoke of. It felt almost absurd, to tell the truth. The idea that any wasteland pony could end up that indebted to the Enclave in the span of one year was crazy. That was to say nothing about the fact the Enclave had had enough contact with this single unicorn to begin with. There had to be a story here.
“Any idea why he owes us several times over?” I asked. In my head I sounded amused, but my delivery instead came out flat.
“He was responsible for aiding the Enclave in some horrid business back then. There was a duo of ponies back then responsible for over two hundred deaths in two years. Over a quarter of them were Enclave citizens,” Ironsight told me. My entire body shuddered at two ponies being able to cause that much death. “His debts came from a group of soldiers first saving him from the Las Pegasus No Mare’s Land, then an incident involving a dragon, and finally an assault on the Bucklyn Bridge when he attempted to attack the Steel Rangers with…”
Ironsight’s sudden quiet caught me even more off guard then the fact a grounder owed the GPE. Though I could hear his voice through the radio, most of it was either groans or too quiet to make out. It took a lot to make Ironsight as speechless as he was now, to the point I couldn’t begin to think of what he might look like at this moment. After a bit, he forced a cough.
“Well, what you need to know is that he owes us for pulling his ass out of several fires and we’re cashing in one of those favors,” He finished. “That is all I can be certain of, other than the fact he has recently been seen in Trotson. Tell him we sent you and you should be good.”
“Understood,” I replied, yet another involuntary reaction making its way out. Instead of a nod, however, this time I saluted. “I think that is all the questions I have for right now.”
“Good, then I can ask a question of my own,” Ironsight said. “Rhapsody, are you okay?”
I blinked too many times to count after he asked that. I opened my mouth to answer only to realize I wasn’t entirely sure what to tell him. Physically I was fine, save for the fact I had my cutie mark covered by the traitor’s mark. Mentally, outside of the pain of not seeing my family, friends, or anyone else in the Enclave face to face ever again, I thought I was holding up well. As well as any other ordinary soldier, at least. I knew my answers and what I wanted to say, but for the life of me I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“I can’t believe this is how your career ended. Of all the soldiers I know you were the last I thought I would ever see branded a Dashite,” He explained further. “Undying loyalty to the Enclave, even now that you're branded. A great record, follows orders well, but most importantly determined. To have that all thrown ou–“
“If you hate me for leaving, just say it,” I said, shifting my position on my seat so I was laying on it. My head hung off the side, eyes returning to watching the lights. “Enclave hates us Dashites, right? No reason to act friendly with me now if you don’t want to.”
“You know damn well that isn’t what I’m trying to say,” Ironsight replied. The exasperation in his voice was clear as day… though I guess the day wasn’t as clear any longer, seeing as I now lived below the clouds instead of above them. “I’m worried that you are letting this consume you. We both know you worked your ass off even harder than most. Need I remind you your talent isn’t even in a military field to begin with? To work your way up to Lieutenant Colonel and then just have it thrown away. Even if you hide it, I know it hurts you more than you let on.”
I… couldn’t deny any of that. The scar my former squad had left on my pride was the reason I was down here. I could face Anchor fine but my mom and dad? Every other pegasus in the Enclave? Even if they never knew how I fucked up I would feel a hidden judgement in there eyes. The guilty feeling of not taking the opportunity to fix my mistake wasn’t something I wanted to live with.
“The GPE needs those stolen documents destroyed. I need to restore my own honor,” I explained to him. “This was the only way. What I give up is nothing compared to what I’m trying to save.”
“If you say so. Ironsight out,” Ironsight said.
The radio went silent, leaving me with nothing but the sound of the train, the landscape rolling by, and my own thoughts. I wouldn’t hear from him again for seven days, as long as the Enclave didn’t just straight up abandon me from this point onwards. I could easily see them doing that and just putting my name on some wanted list. Well, whatever they decide I’m sticking to what I came down here to do. No amount of ponies hunting me will change that.
As far as I could tell, I still had some hours before the sun set. It would be even more hours till I arrived in what remained of Trotson station. That left me with time to do something, which my stomach told me should be lunch. I guess I need to find if there was any food on here in the first place. If not I would have to hold out till Trotson and hope that I found something edible there. Considering half the city has been buried in sand since the Last Day, I would rather take my chances on the train.
I stored my radio in a saddlebag I had taken before heading to the wasteland, threw my rifle’s strap around my neck, and left my cabin. Even outside of the cabin, the train as a whole had seen far better days. The fact it ran at all was nothing short of a miracle. Must have been hell to maintain with the raiders, ghouls, and other things that might want to rip it apart for unknown reasons. Had to give these grounders props for managing that.
Out one car, into the next, and nothing really changed. The entire train seemed to be in the same condition, as did everything outside the train. The Equestrian Wasteland had an endlessly dour demeanor, and the train seemed to take inspiration from it in presentation. It didn’t hide what it was, and that was something I could respect. Honesty was one of the elements of the old world, after all.
It took several train cars and the dismissing of the few other passengers I came across to reach what was clearly the dining car. It had seen better days, but I had said that about everything so far down here. No reason to restate it after this. What was worth stating was the bar that sat not too far from me had drinks in it. Like, not empty bottles of soda and wine but actual filled bottles! How in the world did they manage that?
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Well, they had drinks and I was definitely feeling a decent bit parched. I hopped onto one of the barstools and then onto the bar counter. I looked in curiosity at exactly what it was they had. Plenty of alcoholic beverages were displayed before me but this wasn’t the time to get drunk. Outside of that was various flavors of Sparkle-Cola and Sunrise Sarsaparilla. My squad had actually found some of these during a mission in the Fillydelphia area two years ago. It was the only time I had ever had one…
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“Left hall clear!”
“Room clear!”
My rifle remained trained on the hallway before me. Clear or not, we had dealt with enough trouble already in this accursed city. Steel Rangers and raiders were everywhere, and by getting to this one factory we had already killed more than a few of the latter. Not that anyone would miss them or the junk that command had asked us to grab. All most grounders did was kill.
We weren’t entirely sure why command had asked us to pick up a bunch of old, spare parts. Seemed more like something those damn rangers would be after than the GPE. A soldier didn’t question what they were told, though, so we followed orders and did it. That was the life I lived, and damn if the rhythm of an operation wasn’t enjoyable. Perhaps that was fitting, considering my cutie mark was meant more for a musician than a soldier.
I remember that those first few rooms being clear was the first bit of relaxation we had had since arriving in that dump. These raiders were far too organized to be some unnoteworthy group of murderers and killers. That wasn’t even mentioning the oddity of slaves and raiders actually running the factories. I wouldn’t find out until a mission a year later why it seemed that way: the entire city was under control of some grounder named Red Eyes.
I felt even more proud of our success afterwards when I learned that. Fuck him, his alicorns, and everything about him. He made every mission his followers interfered with hell.
Anyways, the factory in question didn’t seem like it had been activated yet. Red Eyes must not have had the pony power at the time, because it most certainly was when the next squad was sent after something in the same area. We must have led his forces right to it. We found what we needed to, secured the parts that were needed, and then Dew Leaf showed up with five bottles of Sparkle-Cola out of nowhere.
“Look what I found!” She had said playfully, placing the five bottles on the ground. “Untouched, seemingly rad-free. Possibly pre-Last Day too.”
“Were those on the list?” I asked.
“Nope. They’re for us,” Dew Leaf said. She slowly panned her hoof between us all. “Figured it would make a good story. You know, to bond us together and stuff. It would be a waste to let these raiders have it. As far as we know it might be our only real chance to ever have some.”
“Leaf, I think your head is in the wrong place at the moment,” Lucky Shot said, stepping up to the mare. “We are currently deep in raider territory, on a mission. This is not the time for us to have a ‘bonding moment’.”
“I say take that stick out of your ass and allow yourself to have a little fun,” Dew Leaf replied, getting a snort out of Medicine Ball.
We all knew it was her, but the moment we looked at the pony in question she turned her head away. I could tell her eyes were scanning the factory sheepishly under her helmet. I couldn’t deny that what Dew had said was rather funny. Of all of us, Lucky Shot was the only one who seemed unable to turn off ‘soldier mode’. I was right behind him in what Dew affectionately called her workaholic ranking, which she had actually made a full list of on her terminal.
It took me a year and a half later to admit to her that, yes, I was that bad.
“I am curious how it tastes after all this time,” Medicine Ball stated. She reached down and picked one of the bottles up in her hooves. “Though if it truly is from before the Last Day it has to be rather unsafe to drink, right? This city was directly hit, after all.”
“Even more reason to not drink it,” Lucky Shot said. “I don’t want a third hind leg growing out of me.”
“I think you mean fourth hind leg. You already got a third one,” Dew replied. That one got both her and Medicine Ball laughing, and I had to actively suppress joining in.
Lucky hit her over the head in vengeance. “Fuck all of you.”
As the laughter died down I stepped forward and grabbed another bottle. The bottle itself was glass, and the sound of it against my power armor didn’t sit right with my ears. Dew and Medicine had made me very curious, however, and this was one of the few times my curiosity won. I took off my helmet, an action which Lucky visibly flinched at, and forced up smiled at each member of my squad as I put it on the ground.
“If we are gonna have these, then we do it with cheers towards home,” I told them. “I think that is enough reason, if command is truly gonna ask us about having some century old drinks.”
That was something we all agreed to, each pony taking off their helmet and grabbing a bottle of Sparkle-Cola. Dew’s almost childlike wonder filled her face as she picked up her bottle. Lucky mumbled something under his breath as he grabbed his. Medicine already had hers and was waiting patiently. Angel, quiet as ever, had picked it up some time earlier. When everyone had their bottle, I lifted mine into the air.
“Cheers to the Grand Pegasus Enclave! Cheers to the sole, pure race!” I cheered. Seconds later, my squad did the same.
“Cheers to the Grand Pegasus Enclave! Cheers to the pegasi!”
As we weren’t allowed to tell anypony about up in the clouds of the surface, this event became our little secret.
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“Ahem!”
I looked down from my position on top of the bar counter. There was a grounder (earth pony I believe, given I didn’t see a horn) looking up at me with the most disappointed look on her face. I raised an eyebrow, then looked back to the drinks. It quickly came to me that I had been standing on the counter for that entire trip down memory lane. So, with the knowledge the pony below me was likely the bartender, I stepped off the counter and back onto the bar stool.
“Sorry. Some of the drinks got me reminiscing,” I said. My thoughts on grounders aside, I would have to learn to tolerate them to some extent. There would be more of them than pegasi down here. “You're the bartender, I take it?”
“Yep. Odka’s the name,” They said as their head peaked over the counter. I don’t know why they were under the counter, and I don’t care enough to ask. “Never seen you on board. First time to Trotson?”
So they wanted to get friendly, eh? Fine, as long as it had nothing to do with the mission proper.
“Technically. Last time I was here I was still part of the GPE,” I said. Odka tilted their head, which was odd. Even if most ponies in the clouds didn’t know what a Steel Ranger looked like, I expected the surface was different. “You’ve… you’ve heard of the GPE, right!? The Enclave?”
“Oh, so it’s an acronym!” Odka replied. She sounded like more of a foal then Dew Leaf, and considering she was tending a bar that made me worried. “Never heard a Dashite refer to it as that. Might be my new favorite way to say it.”
It was my turn to tilt my head. “Have you ever heard anypony refer to it as the GPE?”
“Nopers. To be fair, not a lot of pegasi come to Trotson. Even fewer ever return,” She told me. That was definitely concerning, but I had been told worse things. The horror stories I had heard of the world below the clouds those years before joining the military being one of them. “I think those ponies in the Shadow Corp scare most of them. They don’t like to have things that can mess with the weather around when weather control is what gives them so much power. You pegasi can control weather to an extent, so you can figure out how bad that is for them.”
That was about the same reason the GPE was so worried about them. The fact that they had some way of overwriting the S.P.P., even if only in a limited area, made them a threat. If they ever realized how much they could fuck us sideways with that technology, the Enclave might collapse. That was what everypony had been told, at least. When most ponies knew nearly nothing of the surface it was easy to make something up about it to keep your subjects in line.
“So, considering you were looking at my merchandise, I take it you're thirsty?” Odka asked me. I gave a firm nod to the… mare? I think they are a mare at least, given the mane style and voice. Their actual build said otherwise. “Well then what can I get for you today, miss…”
“Singing Rhapsody, and I’ll take a Sunrise Sarsaparilla,” I told her.
She gave a cheerful nod to me and went back below the counter. I winced at the sound of glass clinking against each other, unable to tell where it came from. She came back up with a bottle and held out a hoof. I knew what she wanted, but I was going to sit and wait till this idiot realized she had not said the price to me. It was worth it, watching the grounder get increasingly more confused as we stared at each other for what she probably assumed was no reason.
It took her a total of forty-eight seconds to finally get the hint. Give or take a second or two.
“Sixty-nine caps. Technically seventy but the last cap comes from your bottle,” She said, tapping the bottle cap of what was my drink. I dug out the necessary caps (provided by my ex-husband. He claimed his collection would be more important to me then him now) from my saddle bag and handed it over. She collected it and stored it somewhere, then opened my bottle. “Enjoy yourself Rhaf… Rhath… uh…”
“Just Singing will work,” I said with a groan. Hopefully not everyone down here has the long term memory of a vegetable.
I took a sip of Sunrise Sarsaparilla, the first one I had had in my life. They had it up in the Enclave but I grew up in a rather poor area. That had been my main reason for going military at the time, and patriotism came later. Far better than trying to become a singer, because starving artists was a great way to lift your family out of near poverty. I spent so much time making sure I was a perfect soldier that I gave up a lot, and fun little drinks like this was one of them.
It probably wouldn’t have stayed that way if it wasn’t for the Sparkle-Cola incident I had reminisce on. Something about that day was special, and while Anchor and my foals enjoyed the drink I couldn’t bring myself to pick up a bottle. It was both the first and last time I had ever had Sparkle-Cola. Now that I think about it, that day hasn’t been soured. Despite everything Dew, Medicine, Lucky, and Angel Hair had done, the event still made me a little joyful.
Not only that, but Angel Hair hadn’t really done much that entire time. I guess that makes sense, seeing as how they were right behind me in Dew’s ranking. Probably just didn’t have much interest in joining in.
“Hey, Odka,” I called after another sip. Her attention snapped to me like a pet being called by its owner. I really hoped that was only metaphorocal. “You see most everypony who comes onto this train, right?”
“Yep. Most everypony,” Odka replied as she rested her hooves on the bar. “Why do you ask? Looking for somepony.”
“Two ponies. One is an old friend and the other is a bounty hunter,” I explained. Odka gave me a nod, as if what I said was enough description to tell who they were. I didn’t think it was enough, so I explained further. “First is a pegasus named Angel Hair. Not a Dashite. Yellow fur, slightly lighter yellow mane and tail.”
“I think I remember somepony like that,” Odka answered. “They didn’t talk much but they liked their whiskey. Like, really liked their whiskey. Never seen a pony, much like a pegasus drink that much and stay sober.”
I think my face twisted into a smile, but I was definitely laughing internally. That was Angel Hair alright. Mare had a stomach made for a dragon, and I had seen her eat and drink like one. I swore I had never seen her get drunk in my time knowing her. Made her hell to go up against in a drinking contest.
That actually reminds me of when I challenged her the fir- no, not now. I can reminisce later. I still had a grounder to ask about.
“That is her,” I said. “Second pony is a unicorn ghoul named Sharps–“
“Sharpshot?! You’re looking for him?!” Odka shouted. I winced at the sudden rise in her voice’s volume. She leaned in closer, suddenly seeming a lot more serious than I thought possible. “Let me guess: he killed a loved one of yours. Rough way to start your life down here, but it is probably a good idea to give up.”
Well, that was a little concerning. Sounded like this Sharpshot pony had managed to piss off the entire wasteland and then some. Not sure if I should be impressed that someone like that would be on my side or worried. I would have enough to worry about with raiders and Shadow Corp in this city.
“I take it he isn’t that popular?” I asked. I think my voice actually managed to show the concern I was feeling deep down for a fraction of a second.
“Pretty much every pony wants him dead, and he and that alicorn he calls his wife seem to rather enjoy it,” Odka answered. It took me a few seconds to realize the oddity in what she had said “Steel Rangers have wanted him dead for a long time. Lots of slavers and raiders do too. Not sure about Red Eyes himself but I’m positive they want him dead. Unity? Definitely wants him dead.”
“Hold a moment, go back,” I requested, motioning with my hoof across the counter. I was certain a bit of emotion had found its way into my voice that time. “His wife is what?”
“Oh, yeah. Guess that would be a shock to someone who just recently came down from the clouds,” The grounder replied, giggling madly. “Yep. Don’t know the story but the two have been together as long as I’ve worked. Sharpshot is pretty good at picking fights and giving me messes to clean up. Willow Wisp, the alicorn I mention, isn’t any different. She does have a love for blood that I would call concerning.”
I held the urge to face hoof in, despite how tempting it was. That would certainly explain why Ironsight seemed so confused earlier. I had had to fight an alicorn in the past, though thankfully it was just one. Second worst experience in my entire life. It had wiped out two other squads and nearly killed me. Lucky Shot lived up to his name that day. The idea of meeting another one was certainly not going to be fun, but at least they weren’t working for Red Eyes this time.
Again, fuck that stallion.
“So, was I right? He killed someone you know?” Odka ask, her voice a little too cheery for such a dark question.
“Opposite actually. I need his assistance,” I explained. That was all I was going to say about my mission to her. “Heard he was in Trotson.”
“Never saw them board the train to head back to the central wasteland, so yep,” She replied. “Honestly, despite everything I’ve heard, they aren’t all bad. They’re actually quite cu-“
The sound of the door to the railroad car opening caused both of us to look in its direction. I expected to see a grounder, and instead was met with a rather old looking griffon. He looked like he had been to tartarus and back several times, with rather large scars all across his body. He also had a fake right eye, and a synthetic left talon. Back home he would have been given a medical discharge, and I’m sure a medic would diagnose him with PTSD. Probably would have been deemed to mentally unstable to carry a firearm.
Down in the wasteland whether you had PTSD meant jackshit. Everyone needed a weapon and by the goddesses he was armed. I don’t think I've seen anyone carrying so many slugs before. Slugs no doubt meant for the two shotguns he was carrying on him. My mind screamed he was a raider, and that I was nowhere near armed enough to fight him if necessary. I had a rifle, yes, but without a battle saddle I didn’t trust myself to fire before he did.
He came up to us, limping badly, and took the bar stool next to mine. He noticed me looking at him, and in an attempt to avoid confrontation I immediately looked down. I could see my hoof had been bouncing to the rhythm of the train. I gave a quick glance to Odka. Poor mare seemed ready to faint.
“Vodka,” The griffon said, placing what I assumed was the necessary number of caps. He sounded like his voice had been destroyed by smoking.
Odka got to work quickly, the sound of glass clinking together radically driving me mad. Closing my eyes and trying to focus on the sounds of the train didn’t help. The sound of coughing caused me to open my eyes and look at the griffon. He was leaning away from the counter and myself, the coughs quickly gaining a wheezing nature to them. It sounded almost painful.
After what must have been a full minute of hacking and wheezing he stopped. His drink had been placed on the counter. At first I thought he was turning to it, but his head stopped on me instead. His working eye was taking in my body, as if sizing me up. Did he see me as a threat? No, he was too well armed to see a pegasus as under armed as me as a threat. He looked away when he was done.
“Smart pegasus. Smarter than most,” He replied. I had no idea what his words meant. “Many are cocky. Like to cause trouble. Invisible Mare gets them. Never seen again. You keep your head down. She won’t get you.”
The ghastly sound of his voice mixed with the slowly, incomplete way he worded his sentences were unnerving. Add that to the fact most of what he said seemed rather incoherent and out of nowhere and I felt like I was looking at some creature out of a ghost story. A young colt or filly would likely have run away in tears. Probably traumatized too, given the state of the griffon who spoke it all. I was more curious as to what he meant by it all.
Especially since I could take at least one thing away from his rambling.
The name he had mentioned, ‘the Invisible Mare’, wasn’t new. It was the title of the Shadow Corps leader, and the only thing any pony knew about them. Well, only thing outside of the fact they seemed to see everything in the city. They were the reason why the Enclave’s efforts at destroying them failed. All our plans had been known, and outmaneuvered us like some chess grandmaster. The fact any pony got out of there alive was a miracle.
“I’m not here to cause Shadow Corp trouble,” I told the griffon. I took another sip of Sunrise Sarsaparilla. “Don’t worry about me. If all goes well I’ll be in and out within the week.”
“If pegasus says so,” the griffon replied. He too took another sip of his beverage. “Gold. Been around. Pegasus’ name?”
“Rhapsody,” I answered.
For a supposed raider this griffin, Gold as he called himself, was being rather civil. He probably wanted to talk more. Sadly the last sip of Sunrise Sarsaparilla had just gone down my throat and I had gotten some of what I needed. It wasn’t food, but it would hold me for the time being. I got off the bar stool and turned my attention to Odka.
“Thanks for the drink. Might be back later for food,” I said. I didn’t see them turn to me, but I definitely heard it. The horrible sound of glass seemed to follow her every movement.
“If you would prefer to eat in your cabin, just ask one of the attendants,” They called out.
I decided the grounder deserved a nod. They weren’t bright, but they had given me the info I needed.